Of Memories and Brainstorms
by The Disappearing Me
Summary: Two psychology-inspired humorous one-shots which aren't quite as nerdy as they sound. Mostly. Be careful - you may learn something!
1. Chapter 1: Brainstorms

A/N: This is a one-shot based off of something I learned about in one of my Psychology classes. It takes place over the summer after the fifth book – Harry knows he has to kill Voldemort, but he doesn't know about Horcruxes or anything like that yet.

Disclaimer: This is J.K. Rowling's work. I'm simply borrowing her characters for a bit to try out in my sandbox, but they're definitely still hers.

* * *

><p>"Quicksand!"<p>

"Veelas!"

"Dementors!"

"Puking Pastilles!"

"A mirror!"

Chaos reigned in Number 12 Grimmauld Place, as the junior members of the Order of the Phoenix shouted one idea after another. Harry sighed. Fred and George he would have expected this out of, but he had hoped the other members would be a little more constructive.

"Okay, let's take a break," said Harry. "Now I know all of you are trying to help, and I really, really appreciate the effort. But I just don't think any of these are going to work."

"Well, what'd you expect? You're asking us for ideas on how to kill You-Know-Who! Git's near bloody invincible," Ron scoffed.

"Although I still say we try the mirror," Fred said with his usual grin. "That was an inspired idea, Georgie."

"I feel like we're trying to kill off Castro, or something," moaned Hermione. The rest of the group just stared at her blankly. "Oh, honestly, you don't know who Fidel Castro is?" Getting no response, she went into lecture mode. "Fidel Castro, Muggle dictator of Cuba. The Americans tried hundreds of ways to kill him off, but somehow he always survived. What they never figured out was that a supporter in the wizarding world was slipping Felix Felicis into his coffee every day. Eventually the Americans just gave up."

"Well, there's an idea," Harry said. "Whatever plan we come up with, we can take Felix Felicis to make sure it works."

"But we still have to come up with a plan," Ron said glumly.

Silence reigned in the room.

"This isn't working," Ginny said quietly.

"Look," said Harry, attempting to bolster morale. "The answer's here somewhere, I just know it."

"Why don't we try something different?" said Hermione, producing slips of paper and spare quills out of her purse.

"How does she fit all that in there?" Ron whispered to Harry, who just shrugged.

"Everyone take a piece of paper and a quill. Without talking, write down as many ideas as you can think of for five minutes. Don't worry about whether it sounds stupid or not." Ron noticed Hermione was looking directly at him when she said this. "When the five minutes are up, we'll compare the ideas and see what could work," Hermione continued.

Surprisingly, it seemed to go well. For five minutes nothing could be heard but the scratching of quills and the occasional muttering from Mrs. Black's portrait in the background.

"Time's up," Hermione announced, setting down her own quill.

"Let's see what we've got," said Harry. He flipped through the slips as they were proffered to him, scanning their contents for the key to Voldemort's downfall. He chuckled as he got to Fred's suggestion to slip him a love potion and make him fall hopelessly in love with the Minister of Magic.

"Destroy the pieces of his soul one by one," Ron read off of one that Harry discarded. "Nice sentiment, Ginny, but I don't see how that's going to help us. I don't think You-Know-Who even has a soul." He stood up, chair scraping across the floor. "Look, mate, I want him dead just as much as the next bloke, but this just isn't working."

"Maybe we should ask Dumbledore for help," suggested Ginny. "After all he is the only one Tom's ever been afraid of."

"We really should be asking older wizards," Hermione agreed. The ragtag group stood up and began to file out of the room

"Sorry, mate," George told Harry, clapping him on the back.

"If you do decide to go with that love potion idea, though, let us know!" said Fred with a grin. And with a crack! they both apparated downstairs, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the room together. He sighed, letting the papers flutter out of his hands.

"Don't worry, Harry. We'll get him," Ginny said understandingly.

"It was a little too much to hope we'd come up with the idea in a day, wasn't it?" Harry said ruefully.

"A bit," she replied. "But you wouldn't be you if you didn't try." Harry felt his stomach tingle a bit with her words.

"Now, c'mon!" Ginny said, changing the topic. "Mum's making Pumpkin Pasties downstairs."

Laughing, Harry allowed himself to be dragged off. He couldn't do everything in a day, but he contented himself with the faith that they would know the answer when the time came.

* * *

><p>AN Part II:

The theory behind this fic was something I learned in one of my many Psychology classes – that people actually brainstorm better when they do so by themselves and then pool their ideas. They not only come up with more ideas, but higher quality ones, as you can see when Ginny accidentally stumbles upon the real answer. I may well make this into a series of Psychology based one-shots (I'm full of fun facts), but that all depends on how the school year goes.

I was a huge Harry Potter fan when I was younger (hence the fics from 2003 on my profile), but life happened and I didn't keep up with it until about a month ago, where I reread all the books and watched all the movies in the space of a week. As a result, my knowledge of the timeline and the details of the book might have been a bit off. I realize the fic's not exactly brilliant, but you don't become a better writer unless you try. Please let me know if you noticed anything, or simply have constructive criticism. Thanks so much for reading!


	2. Chapter 2: Flashbulb Memories

This particular chapter is written in the form of a Daily Prophet article published several years after Voldemort's defeat. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is all JK Rowling's universe – I'm just taking it for a bit of a test drive.

* * *

><p><strong>Where Were You When the World Stood Still?<strong>

By Alice Tolipan

There is no doubt that when Voldemort died the wizarding world as a whole was gripped with a collective memory of the moment we heard the News. Your intrepid reporter, Alice Tolipan, set out to find out where you were when the Boy Who Lived vanquished Voldemort, a name that the world can now say without fear. This is what the randomly polled wizards in Diagon Alley had to say on the subject on the anniversary of the Day.

Our first interviewee, Mrs. Olivia Olivet, a mousy young woman in her late 20s, thinks of the Day fondly. "I remember it like it was yesterday. My husband and I were away, so we got the news by owl. When we finally heard all the hooting and pecking, we opened up the window and there were fifteen owls all lined up in a row on the sill!" When asked as to what she was doing so that neither she nor her husband heard the owls, Mrs. Olivet refused to answer further questions, stammering something about it being their honeymoon.

Mr. Albert Lunsford, of the Lunn and Lunsford printing company, recalls the day as one of relief. "My wife and I had always been ardent supporters of Dumbledore and his policies, so when he was murdered and Voldemort appeared to be on the rise, my pregnant wife and I fled the country. No one knew where we were, so we didn't hear the News until the owl came to our flat with the weekly Bulgarian Post two days later. We were so excited that my wife actually went into labor! My son was born later that day, never to know the fear of Voldemort."

Mrs. Hortensia Frank and her 13-year old son, Patrick Frank spoke to us after coming out of Flourish and Blotts. When asked the question, Mrs. Frank was the one to respond. "I was right in the process of giving him (indicating Patrick) a strong dressing down after he'd run outside and flashed the neighbors when my husband apparated in with the News. I don't think Patrick was old enough to understand what was going on, but he was certainly happy that I was no longer cross with him!" Young Patrick flushed hotly when this story was mentioned, but claimed not to remember the incident.

Not everyone was as excited to share their memories. When a patron entering from Knockturn Alley was asked his memories of the day, he had only this to say. "Of course I remember. Let's just say I'm less than eager to share my memories with a supporter of today's administration. They might be…misinterpreted."

Five years have passed. Jobs have come and gone, we've grown older and wiser, yet we all remember the Day as though it had just occurred. The day the nation stood still and got its picture taken.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: This fic focuses on flashbulb memories, which are "memories for circumstances surrounding hearing about shocking, highly charged events" to quote my Cognitive Psychology book. Terrorist attacks, assassinations, and other shocking, emotional events fall into this category. Flashbulb memories feel extremely vivid, as though they just took place yesterday. We can all remember where we were and what we were doing when we learned the news with extreme accuracy – or so we think. One of the most recent instances of a flashbulb memory, from the American point of view, is the September 11th attacks. We can all remember where we were when we heard with great vividness and confidence.

It actually turns out that there are only minor differences between flashbulb memories and normal memories. They are rehearsed a great deal more than average memories (every time we tell a friend about them or watch a news clip) and they involve a lot of emotion, both of which make the situation easier to remember. But the accuracy of the memories actually isn't all that different from other memories. The only difference we think we remember them correctly, even when in most cases we don't. So, while the wizards in the story may feel as though they remember accurately, it's unlikely that they do.

Wizards seem rather fond of capitalizing important events and names and making them dramatic, so I thought I'd include that in the "News" and the "Day". "The day the nation stood still and got its picture taken" is actually a paraphrased quote from a researcher describing the day that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, another case of a flashbulb memory.

Thanks for reading – don't forget to review!


End file.
